


Sometimes I Wonder How I Ever Started Loving You

by MEF11



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEF11/pseuds/MEF11
Summary: A story of family: falling apart, falling together, and finding it in unexpected places.Title taken from "Josephine" by Brandi Carlile
Relationships: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	Sometimes I Wonder How I Ever Started Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very excited to share this new story with you all! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think in the comments below or send me a message at letter-know.tumblr.com.

_ “Did you ever help this inmate commit a crime?”  _

Ashlyn reads the question in a whisper to herself. “Uh, not unless you count helping him bleach his hair sophomore year.” She laughs but she doesn’t smile. She circles  **_no_ ** on the form in front of her.

“ _ What is your relationship to this inmate?”  _ she reads. “Brother.” She states with a nod. “Or, wait. Sister? He’s my brother, but I’m his sister.” 

“Sibling,” Megan suggests around the handful of popcorn she’s just stuffed in her mouth.

“Right. Duh.” Ashlyn shakes her head and scribbles the word on the line provided. “It’s not like it’s a hard form. I don’t know why it’s throwing me so much.”

“Uh, maybe because filling out a visitor application so you can go see your brother in prison is kind of a bizarre experience?” Megan offers.

“I guess,” Ashlyn shrugs, eyes scanning the form. “He’s been getting himself into trouble for years now. He took a plea deal. It’s not like we didn’t know it was coming.”

“Maybe.” Megan puts a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder. “But he’s still always going to be the guy who taught you how to pitch in street baseball, and took you out to that all-night diner when your homecoming date bailed on you. And it’s always going to be weird to see that guy in a jumpsuit.”

“Well that’d be true inside or outside of prison. Not his style,” Ashlyn deflects. She hates vulnerability. 

Megan knows it’s hard for her best friend and now isn’t the moment to push her to open up so she rolls with it. “I, on the other hand, would look  _ smashing _ .”

“Smashing, huh?” Ashlyn questions. “That London trip really left an impression on you.”

“It was London Fashion Week. You don’t come out of Fashion Week unchanged,” Megan says seriously. 

“Speaking of strange realities, I never thought the girl who threw up on me at my 8th birthday party would be a publicist to the stars, jet setting all over the world and bringing back swag bags worth as much as my car,” Ashlyn says with a grin as she gestures to the large black bag sitting on her counter. 

“It’s not worth as much as your car,” Megan rolls her eyes, “and I’m an  _ anti _ -publicist. I don’t create stories, I have never, and will never, call the paparazzi, and I don’t call companies to ask for free shit.”

“Which is exactly why if I ever needed a publicist, I’d call you.” Ashlyn hands Megan a beer on her way to the couch. 

“So, how long until you get to see him?” Megan questions, changing the subject back to Ashlyn’s brother.

“Chris?” Ashlyn clarifies, settling onto the couch. “Officially it can take up to 30 days but Chris says it’ll be more like two weeks. Something about his lawyer putting in a request for expedited approval.”

“He really wants to see you,” Megan notes.

“Yeah,” Ashlyn agrees. “He seemed anxious when we spoke. I think he’s really starting to face his reality, and it scares him.”

“You’re a good sister, Ash.”

***

Ashlyn pulls into the parking lot of the correctional facility at 9:35, parking her Jeep before grabbing the folded sheet of paper from her passenger seat. There’s an entire list of rules she has to review, terrified to mess up on her first visit. She can’t enter the building more than 20 minutes before visiting hours begin. No food or drink is allowed in the building. No jewelry, watches, or bags are allowed. All khaki colored clothing is strictly prohibited.

So she’s got five minutes to finish her coffee. She removes her watch and necklace, placing them in the glovebox. She spends the last few minutes scrolling her phone but reading nothing. She finishes her last sip of coffee. When the clock hits 9:40, she lets out a heavy sigh and tosses her phone in the glovebox as well before locking it. 

Inside the building, a woman sits behind a counter, surrounded in plexiglass. There’s a couple of cutouts in it, a circle near the woman’s mouth and rectangle near the bottom for passing things through. 

“Good morning,” the woman greets half-heartedly as Ashlyn approaches. 

“Morning,” Ashlyn nods in reply. “Um, I’m here to visit.” It comes out more like a question than a statement. 

“Inmate number?” the woman asks.

“Uh, yeah. It’s here.” She slides a piece of paper through the opening and points at the name and number.

“ID please,” the woman requests. 

Ashlyn pulls out her wallet and slides the ID across the counter. The woman types a few things into her computer and then turns around and walks out of sight. Ashlyn stands perfectly still, hoping desperately for more direction or information. 

A moment later, the woman returns and slides a clipboard to Ashlyn, along with her ID and a pen. “Please fill this out, using as legible of writing as you can. You’ll initial each of these statements here,” she points out each part as she goes, “then print your name here, and sign here.” 

“Thanks,” Ashlyn nods. 

Ashlyn takes the clipboard and sits in one of two metal chairs beside the window to fill out the form. She reads each line carefully, despite realizing it’s all the same stuff she went over in her application or in the packet of information they sent her when she was approved. She’s distracted from her review as an older woman comes in and greets the woman behind the counter. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Wallace!” the woman behind the glass greets warmly, wearing a smile that she hadn’t shared with Ashlyn. 

“Hi Rebecca, honey,” Mrs. Wallace returns. “How’s your morning going?”

“Oh, I can’t complain. How about yours?” Rebecca replies. 

“Oh just fine,” Mrs. Wallace smiles broadly. “Even better now that I’m going to sit with Arthur. I brought extra change so I can get him some snacks from the vending machine. He might like a soda today, too.” 

“You make sure to get a little something for yourself, Mrs. Wallace,” Rebecca says with a teasing firm tone.

“He’ll share. Don’t worry,” the old woman says with a laugh. 

They finish their check in quickly and Rebecca unlocks the door from behind the counter with a loud buzz. Mrs. Wallace pulls open the heavy door with a nod of thanks before she disappears. 

Ashlyn can’t help but wonder about Mrs. Wallace. Who brought her to this place? How many times had she walked through that door to share snacks with someone she loves?When she realizes she’s staring at the door Mrs. Wallace had disappeared behind, she shakes the thought from her head and brings the completed clipboard back to Rebecca. 

“Alright Ms. Harris, do you have any firearms, knives, or weapons of any kind on your person today?” the woman asks. 

“No,” Ashlyn shakes her head. 

“Do you have any drugs or drug paraphernalia of any kind on your person today?”

“No,” Ashlyn repeats. 

“Are you wearing any jewelry or watches today?”

“No.”

“Do you have a cellphone on you today?”

“No.”

“Very good,” Rebecca smiles in Ashlyn’s direction for the first time. “This is your first time so I’ll run you through it. When you hear the buzz, the door is unlocked and you may enter. You’ll go down the hall until you see Garrett. He will pat you down before you walk through the metal detector. As long as you’ve been honest today, he’ll let you into the visitation room. You will be allowed to hug your brother briefly in greeting and again as you depart. Physical contact outside of that is prohibited. There are vending machines along the right side wall. You are welcome to purchase food and drinks, and may share them with your family member. Do you have any questions?”

“No ma’am,” Ashlyn shakes her head. 

“Alright then. Enjoy your visit.” 

A moment later, the door buzzes. 

  
  


***

“Hey sis,” Chris flashes his signature, smug smile. 

“Christopher,” Ashlyn responds, giving back an identical smile. 

She reaches out and hugs her brother, trying to pretend it’s normal, but she can’t help but notice the khaki jumpsuit and the shackles around his feet. She sees the guard against the wall eyeing them, and pulls back before he can scold them, taking her seat across the cold metal table from her brother. 

“So, what’s new?” Ashlyn asks with dry humor. 

“Oh, not much,” Chris shrugs, playing along. “I’ve had a lot of down time lately.” 

Silence falls between them as Ashlyn doesn’t know how to carry on. 

“This is weird,” Chris acknowledges. 

“It is,” Ashlyn agrees.

Again, silence. 

“So, how are things, really?” Ashlyn finally asks the question she’s not sure she wants the answer to.

“They’re alright,” Chris answers, before letting out a small laugh. “It sort of feels like being in elementary school.” 

“Prison is like kindergarten?” Ashlyn looks skeptical. 

“Kind of. You have just about as much privacy as a 5-year-old. There’s linoleum tile floors and fluorescent lights and you have to line up and be quiet to go anywhere. They tell you where to go and when, and there’s a craft room,” Chris explains. 

“Oh yeah? You gonna start sending me macaroni art for my fridge?” Ashlyn teases. 

“Maybe someday,” Chris replies. “I’ve gotta earn my way to using pasta as a medium first.”

Ashlyn smiles. “I’ll look forward to it.” 

“How are you?” Chris asks. 

“I’m good,” Ashlyn replies. “Megan referred me to a band she’s started managing. They want me to design a new logo, and some merch. It’s a fun project.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Chris says excitedly. “That’s gotta be more fun than some of the stuff you do for the big companies.”

“Yeah,” Ashlyn agrees. “It’s more creative, which I like.”

“My sister, the artist.” He’s beaming, the pride evident on his face.

“Give it time,” Ashlyn says. “With this craft room, I’m sure you’re bound to surpass me eventually.”

“Maybe,” Chris laughs. 

“Hey, you want a snack or something? A pop?” Ashlyn thinks about the woman she saw before. She glances over and sees her chatting with a man who she thinks must be her son. He’s got a can of Coke in front of him. 

“I’m okay,” Chris shakes his head.

“Are you sure?” Ashlyn asks. “I brought some cash just to buy you Doritos and a Sprite.”

“I appreciate that,” Chris says sincerely. “But I actually need to talk to you about something and it feels weird to do it over a pack of Twinkies.”

“Who said anything about Twinkies?” Ashlyn jokes. 

Chris tries to force a smile but he looks nervous. 

“Okay,” Ashlyn sits up straight in her chair and looks Chris in the eyes, sensing the shift in tone. “What’s up?”

Chris lets out a big sigh and stares at his hands. He and Ashlyn had managed a casual conversation for a few minutes but something was clearly on his mind, and his demeanor had changed. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Chris,” Ashlyn tries to reassure. “If you need something you can tell me. I can send money, or call another lawyer or--”

“It’s not that,” Chris cuts her off. “It’s bigger than that.”

“Okay, well what is it?” Ashlyn prods, confused. 

Chris looks back to the guard who nods subtly to him. He turns back to Ashlyn, reaching into his pocket and then sliding something across the table to her. 

Ashlyn looks down at the wallet-sized photo of a newborn baby. She’s wearing a white sleeper covered in little purple flowers. She’s got Chris’s face. She’s got  _ her  _ face. 

Ashlyn stares at the picture a minute, trying to figure out what’s going on, but all she can see is a baby picture of herself that she doesn’t recognize. It’s too new.

“What the hell am I looking at here?” Ashlyn asks. Her frustration at a lack of explanation is rising. “Why are you showing me this?”

“She’s mine, Ash,” Chris says quietly. 

“I don’t understand,” Ashlyn responds, shaking her head in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘yours’?”

“I mean she’s my kid, Ashlyn,” Chris states. “I have a daughter.”

“No you don’t,” Ashlyn scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

“I do,” Chris insists. 

“No, because you’re in  _ Prison _ . Because if you had a kid, you would have told me,” Ashlyn bites out. 

“I wanted to,” Chris explains. “But Brooke didn’t tell me right away and when she did, I was in the middle of this shit. I’d been arrested and I got out on bail but we knew I’d end up here. I was scared.”

“You had a fucking  _ baby _ and you didn’t tell me?!” Ashlyn is using all her self control to not scream. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not done,” Chris says in a calm but commanding tone. “She was born a week before my sentencing. Brooke panicked in the hospital. I thought it was just because labor is hard and she was scared but she bailed, Ash.” His eyes fill with tears. “She signed over her parental rights before she even signed the birth certificate. She’d been planning it.”

“I’m gonna throw up.” Ashlyn drops her head in her hands. “Seriously, Chris. I can’t--I don’t--I…” Her words trail off. 

“I know,” Chris says. “I know it’s a lot.”

“A lot?!” Ashlyn looks incredulous. “ _ A lot _ ?! This is more than a lot, Christopher! I mean, if Brooke is gone, and you’re here--”

“She’s in an emergency placement,” Chris fills in the blanks. “I need you to take her, Ashlyn.”

Ashlyn can’t even speak. She just shakes her head, eyes closed and lips pursed. 

“Ashlyn,  _ please _ ,” Chris pleads. “I love her and it’s my job to take care of her and I can’t do that. I need your help.”

“Someone will adopt her,” Ashlyn says coldly.

“Maybe,” Chris says. “Or maybe she’ll end up in foster care, tossed from place to place her whole life. Maybe she’ll be adopted by people who won’t love her enough.”

“I can’t, Chris,” Ashlyn says quietly. 

“Ash, if you don’t take her, I’ll never see her again.” His voice breaks as heavy tears roll down his cheeks. He chokes out a sob. “I wanted her, Ashlyn. You’ve gotta take her.”

They don’t speak for several minutes. Chris composes himself while Ashlyn tries to wrap her head around it. 

“Please, Ashlyn,” Chris says in a whisper. “ _ Please _ .”

“I don’t know,” Ashlyn says. “What about Mom?”

“Her and dad don’t speak to me. You know that.” He rolls his eyes at her suggestion.

“She’d take her,” Ashlyn insists. 

“They can’t offer her what you can. Mom lives in a condo in a retirement community. They’re old,” Chris counters. 

“There’s gotta be another option,” Ashlyn tries. 

“There isn’t. You know there isn’t.”

“I need time to think about this.” Ashlyn rubs her hands over her face. 

“I know you do,” Chris agrees. “But we don’t really have a lot of time. I can give you tonight, but my lawyer expects an answer tomorrow.”

“This isn’t how I imagined being an aunt,” Ashlyn says, sardonically. 

“I don’t want you to be her aunt, Ash,” Chris says seriously. “I want you to adopt her. She needs a real parent.”

“No way! She has a parent, she has you. I’ll take care of her until you get out.”

“So I can just walk into her life in 15 years and uproot everything? I’m not doing that to her.”

“And I’m supposed to pretend like you don’t exist?!” Ashlyn is indignant.

“No, of course not,” Chris replies. “She’ll know who I am. But she’ll also know that I asked you to raise her.”

“I’m not a mom.” Ashlyn shakes her head. “I don’t know how to be.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Chris says sincerely. 

“I guess I have to,” Ashlyn relents.

She picks up the photo and holds it in her hands. Examining the tiny face, she tries to imagine what any of this means.

“What’s her name?” Ashlyn asks.

“Josephine,” Chris beams. “Josephine Ashlyn Harris.”

Ashlyn’s eyes narrow and she stands abruptly, almost knocking her chair over behind her. 

“Oh, fuck you, Chris,” she spits out. 

“What?!” Chris replies, not understanding her outrage. 

“Oh, don’t do that!” She’s practically yelling now. “You know what! That’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?!” Chris asks in shock and confusion. 

“You think you can manipulate me like that? Just name your kid after me so I’ll keep her, right?” Ashlyn seethes. 

“Really?” Chris looks disappointed. “You think that’s why?”

Ashlyn doesn’t say anything. The look on her brother’s face tells her she’s wrong. 

“I named her after you for the same reason I’m asking you to do this, Ashlyn. Because you’re the only person who has ever consistently showed up for me my whole life. You’re the only person who loves me, unconditionally. I need you to do that for both of us now.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Questions? Favorite part?
> 
> Let me know!


End file.
